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Updated: June 26, 2025
"You didn't get your squash this afternoon?" When Percy was worried about anything, she immediately searched for a physical cause. "No! I had to finish up things at the office so that I could get away to-night." Then husband and wife went to their dinner, and Woodyard gave Conny a short-hand account of his doings, the people he had seen, what they had said, the events at the office.
"You must hurry, Conny," she called on over Vickers's head, "and make up your mind; you are almost our last!" "You know I never hurry," the smiling lips piped languidly, and the large hat sailed into the library, piloted on either side by Woodyard and Vickers. Isabelle had a twinge of sisterly jealousy at seeing her younger brother so persistently in the wake of the large, blond girl.
"Now, lad," said Adam, as Seth made his appearance, "the coffin's done, and we can take it over to Brox'on, and be back again before half after six. I'll take a mouthful o' oat-cake, and then we'll be off." The coffin was soon propped on the tall shoulders of the two brothers, and they were making their way, followed close by Gyp, out of the little woodyard into the lane at the back of the house.
Skillcorn having now delivered himself of his news, went out to the woodyard. "I hope he ha'n't carried off our cows along with him," said Barby, as she, too, went out to some other part of her premises. "He was to have made us quite a payment on the first of March," said Fleda. "Yes, and that was to have gone to uncle Orrin," said Hugh. "We shall not see a cent of it.
But the men who follow things and remember, knew; and Percy Woodyard, when he sailed up the bay on his return in October, realized that politically he was buried, that is, in the manner of politics he cared about. And he could never explain, not to his most intimate friend, how he had happened to desert his post, to betray the trust of men who trusted him.
Conny realized the capabilities of Reform, and Percy's especial fitness for it; Reform, if not remunerative, was fashionable and prominent. So Conny had steered their little bark, hoisting sail to every favorable wind, no matter how slight the puff, until Woodyard now was a minor figure in the political world.
We paraded, the roll was called, and as the day began to dawn we marched off. We passed down the main road in long, swaying columns of fours. We left the woodyard behind us and hoped it would be destroyed how we hated the place for the dreary months we had spent there! The westward stream of refugees had ceased, but an eastward stream of French infantry and field artillery thronged the roads.
And she hung up the receiver with an air of swift accomplishment. It is not necessary to go into what had passed between Cornelia Woodyard and Cairy in the weeks that had elapsed since that day when Conny had been so anxious to get back to New York from the Poles'. It would gratify merely a vulgar curiosity.
For John Gavin, alive, there was no place. At least he did not find it; for which, let it be said and done with, he was to blame. Dead, society will find one for him. And for the one misfit got off the list there are seven whom not employment bureau nor woodyard nor charity register can be made to reach. Social economy the thing is called; which makes the eighth misfit.
Woodyard returned to her house at nine o'clock in the evening and found it dark, no lights in the drawing-room or the library, no fire lighted in either room, she pushed the button disgustedly and flung her cloak into a chair. "Why is the house like a tomb?" she demanded sharply of the servant, who appeared tardily. "Mrs. Woodyard was not expected until later."
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